What's in a Name?

What's in a name after all?  I go by all sorts of them and here, in Terrier Rouge the  children have an absolutely adorable way of saying "Carrie" with a slight tilt in the "a" and a long carry over of the "e" .  That is until Mike got to them.... I guess I deserve it, I did teach them to say "Boo Mike" after all, turn around is fair play.  He taught them to say " Carrie" followed by a choking and gagging sound while their hands grasp their necks.  It's quite lovely you see.  One might think that such behavior would be relegated to the school children at St. Bart's, but alas on our walk this morning even the children from the Catholic school had the name down to an art form.  Still, to hear their little voices brings my heart great joy.  

There is Didzlan, Stephania, Lunia, Lulu, Eterson, Watsom, Ben Wesley, Emmanuel, Pierre, Adelaide, Moseline, Iliador the list goes on.  Many of them I can't pronounce or remember, they are so different than our own, but names are so very important.  It allows you to have a piece of them to carry with you.  It allows you a name to give to stories and memories. And the sounds of my name from their sweet cherubic voices usually brings me out of the gate with a handful of candy.  

Through the years I've forgotten so many names and yet somehow, even with all the "Blancs" coming and going through these parts the little children remember mine.  I have no clue why I am so blessed. It's part of what makes this place home.  Being remembered.  Being welcomed. Being wanted.  Maybe that's why I keep coming back.

Today we visited Fort Liberte, and believe it or not I drove!! I know, outside of Fauquier County and all, and I didn't get lost.  As we were leaving the coast four little children were chased away by an old man yelling at them as he threw rocks at them.  I was horrified.  What had they done?  Then, moments later, they ran towards the cars and Pere Bruno jumped out and ran after them.  His tall lanky body with a long graceful step lunged towards them as he took the belt from around his waist.  He had it unbuckled and was waving it at the little children while yelling. The kids ran in terror.  Sweet and docile Pere Bruno turned around and we all stared at him in silence till someone asked "Is he smiling?". The response was a quick "no." And then all of the sudden, through his gray beard flashed his white teeth against his dark skin and out came a quiet little grin, you had to look to see it, but it was there. He got in the car and without a word, he drove away.  

Those children didn't know who they were dealing with.  They not only did not know Pere Bruno's name but they didn't know his spirit.  

People tell me all sorts of things about Haiti.  Ever since my first trip they've been saying things like "All those people are drug dealers and thugs" or "They are happy with their station in life, so let them be". The thing is that I'm pretty sure that those comments are made in order to protect themselves.  Many people say such things to protect their bank account or vacation time but others believe that load of lies because it protects their emotions, their way of life and most of all their heart.  Once you step foot down here, once you learn some names and look into their beautiful white eyes and see their spirit, your can't help but fall in love.  

There's a sweet sweet spirit in this place.  I can see it in the eyes of those I love.  In a few short days I'll be coming home.  I've been gone from my babies a long time, but I remember them.  I remember the feel of Isabelle's head resting on my shoulder as her wet hair tickles my chin.  I have in my heart the sound of Jacob saying "I love you" on his way out the door to school.  I know the feel of Paul's hands and the warmth of his body in bed.  I also know the touch of little Didzlan's short hair and rough little head.  I know the soft and gentle voice of Pere Bruno calling us to breakfast.  I know Iliador's smile and Lanaud's gentle ways.  I know Davis tries to hold my hand when we walk and I know little Izzy can sing Jesus Loves Me all the way through in creole.  I know this place and the people that are here.  They are as much part of me as I pray I am a part of them.  For that I am thankful...and hopefully next year they'll remember my name without the gagging and choking  noises alongside.